


Legacy

by Geyblade



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Title: Study of Jim Kirk's Daddy Issues, Character Study, This just kind of... happened, my hand slipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-18 01:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geyblade/pseuds/Geyblade
Summary: James Kirk is not his father, and he wishes everyone would stop acting like he's supposed to be. All Jim wants is to be his own person, to step out of his father's shadow and find who he's meant to be. And that's hard when you're just a no good fuck-up living in backwoods Iowa, and everyone expects you to be like your dead dad.Then Jim meets Captain Pike, and finds that with the help of Starfleet, maybe he can build his own legacy.





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> This actually just started out as a rewrite of the Maru trial scene. Somehow it morphed into 2.4k words of analyzing Jim's daddy issues. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

    James Tiberius Kirk is not his father. He knows this, and as a small boy is confused when his mother or a gushing relative would tell him, “Oh James, you have your father's eyes,”

    How could he? These were his eyes, right there in his head, not his dad's. It was impossible to have someone's eyes. But little James just smiled and nodded, wondering what they meant.

    As he got older, Jim Kirk felt as if he was pushed farther and farther into his father's shadow. His parents should've named him George Jr. instead of Sam, because it seems like that's what everyone wanted him to be.

    When he brought home good marks from school, he was told that he was so smart, _just like his dad_.

    When he introduced himself to the new boy in his class, the boy looked at him in wonder, _“Like the captain of the Kelvin, George Kirk?”_

    When he started getting into fights, his mom yelled at him, “ _Your father would've expected better of you.”_

    Jim yells back that he doesn't care what his dad thinks, because he's dead anyway. He realizes now that he shouldn't have said that, that he had pushed a little too far. But it felt good to say it, to vocalize his growing frustration with his dad always shadowing everything he did. He finds he doesn't regret it too much. His dad stole his birthday, stole his mother. Stole his individuality.

* * *

     Frank is stupid and a drunk asshole, but at least he doesn't compare Jim to his dad. He gets in Jim's face for some transgression, shortly after his mom leaves to go off-planet, “I don't care who your daddy is, you're still _no one_ , you little shit,”

    Those words strike a chord within Jim. Frank is the first person Jim has ever known to see him without also seeing the ghost of his father looming behind him. Maybe that's why he doesn't tell his mom when Frank is nasty to him. It's refreshing to just be Jim Kirk in someone's eyes, instead of George Kirk’s son Jim Kirk. He remembers deciding the beatings were show of that fact, the yelling and screaming were because Frank didn't _care_ that he was George Kirk’s boy. Tarsus IV was just another punishment he got because he wasn't favored for his father.

    Until the famine.

    Part of Jim died on Tarsus, and he wishes that it was the part that always felt squashed under his father’s ghostly thumb.

    It wasn't.

    Jim got tired of school. Tired of Starfleet recruiters stopping him in the halls, tired of _“Aren't you George Kirk’s boy?”_ tired of projects and tests and grades. He wonders if it's being sent back to Frank that’s making him like this, or if it's the dreams about little food and less humanity and four thousand people dying. Either way, Jim stops going to school, except to ace tests and leave. He spends most of his days sneaking into bars and meeting girls. He passes 11th and 12th grade living out of a barn loft because he finally recognized Frank's bullshit as just that: _bullshit,_ and refused to put up with it _._ He spent his afternoons lounging amongst the stray barn cats, listening to Frank yelling for him to _get his ass over here and do the goddamn dishes_ and promptly ignoring him. He does a lot of reading those years, and a lot of waking up from nightmares flailing and shouting, with straw in his clothes. Those years feel freer than Jim’s ever been, but also more crushing than he's ever experienced.

* * *

     Jim finds that in darkened rooms, naked and under the haze of sex, people don't care if he's George Kirk’s son.

* * *

     He also finds that when his face is covered in bruises from a fight, he doesn't look so much like his dad.

* * *

     Now he was sitting with Captain Christopher Pike from Starfleet, who had just saved his ass from a bar fight. He was nursing his face injuries and trying not to show how dejected he was about said fight, and their dumb conversation about his father. Why was everything he did supposed to be about his dad, even when his eye was bruised and his face was bleeding? He was about to walk out, tired of hearing it.

    But then something Pike said caught his attention. “-do you feel like you were meant for something better? Something special?” Jim liked the sound of that. Do something to show people that he wasn't his dad. He was nearly engaged, but then Pike ruined it, “Enlist in Starfleet.”

    Jim dismissed him quickly. Starfleet was what everyone wanted him to do. He had spent his childhood hearing teachers and counsellors and principals say what a _good cadet_ he would make. What a _good officer_ he could be if he would just behave and stop fighting. How he had leadership skills befitting of a _Starfleet Captain_. He was sick of Starfleet. He hopped on his bike and started the ride back to his shithole apartment.

    As the wind hit his face, Jim was thinking. He mulled Pike’s words over in his head again. He thought over Pike's parting speech about Jim's dad, about the dare that made him itch to do something. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to take that dare and show the world that he was Jim Kirk, clever and resourceful and _something special_. Show them that the Kirk name had more than one face, and make his one that they wouldn't forget.

    James Tiberius Kirk had spent his life in his father’s shadow, but maybe that's because he allowed himself to stay there, under the weight of the looming legacy of George Kirk. He needed to grow bigger than the shadow, to make his own name, a name different than his father’s. He rushed home and burst through the door, grabbing his meager store of possessions and shoving them into a bag.

    He barely slept, barely ate breakfast the next morning as he untied all the knots holding him to this place. He rode his bike to the shipyard and threw the keys to the closest guy, Pike’s words from the bar playing in his head. _You could be an officer in four years._

_I dare you to do better._

    A dare. Irresistible. 

    As he passed Pike on his way to the shuttle, he stopped briefly to look the man in the face.

    “Four years? I'll do it in three.”

    It was time to build his legacy.

* * *

     The Kobayashi Maru was everything that Jim Kirk hated. Not because he couldn't win it. No, Jim hated the Maru because no one could win it. He hated that it was supposed to teach cadets that there were situations where there was no way to win. Jim did not believe in no-win scenarios.

    After his first try at the test, Jim was determined to beat the simulation. He began intense study, piled it on top of his already copious advanced-track schoolwork, and the next year he applied for a retake. The secretary in charge of scheduling simulation exams looked confused: no one during her career had scheduled to retake the Maru. Jim didn't care, he sat back down in the simulation conn and put his year’s worth of study to the test. But still, the crew of the Kobayashi Maru died. He was told that was one of the best performances anyone had ever given on the exam.

    Jim didn't care. He understood now. The test was rigged. You couldn't win. And it made his blood boil.

    Now, as he sat in the simulation conn for the third time, he felt the satisfaction seep onto his face. The Kobayashi Maru was stranded in the Neutral Zone, and his and Gaila’s subroutine was in the test’s computer, ready to delete itself when the simulation ended. As he watched the Klingon warbirds on the holoscreen explode, Jim couldn't help but show his sunniest smile. He had never been more confident in his legacy. It felt good to be James T Kirk, the man who beat the Kobayashi Maru.

* * *

     “This session has been called to resolve a troubling matter. James T. Kirk, step forward.” Jim stepped up to the indicated place for him to stand, gritting his teeth. “Cadet Kirk, evidence has been submitted to this council, suggesting that you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to Regulation 17.43 of the Starfleet Code. Is there anything you care to say before we begin, sir?”

    This was utter bullshit. He beat their stupid fucking test, and now he was at a hearing for something they couldn't even prove he'd done. The Maru’s computer showed no tampered or added coding. This was a stupid fluke, and Jim was angry. “Yes, I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly,” he said, watching as a tall, poised Vulcan stood up from the audience. Vulcans always had the same facial expression, but this guy looked down his nose at Jim, condescension seeping from him. Jim hated it.

    “Step forward,” Barnett said to the Vulcan, then to Jim as the tall alien stepped forward, “This is Commander Spock. He's one of our most distinguished graduates. He's programmed the Kobayashi Maru exam for the last four years,” he turned back to Spock, “Commander?”

    Now Spock looked at Jim, and his hand itched to clip the Vulcan one right on his upturned nose. “Cadet Kirk, you somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine to the programming code, thereby changing the conditions of the test.”

    “And where is that subroutine now? Have you found it?” Jim took satisfaction in the way the Vulcan’s eye twitched ever so slightly.

    “No. However, since no issues with the test occurred before or after your session, it is only logical to conclude that you or an accomplice tampered with the coding to achieve your successful outcome.”

    Barnett cut in then, “In academic vernacular, the only conclusion here is that you cheated.”

    Jim felt his own eye twitch at that. _He_ cheated? He was fed up. “Let me ask you something I think we all know the answer to. The test itself is a cheat, isn't it? You programmed it to be unwinnable. Every cadet who takes it fails. All the little Kobayashi Maru study guides and preparedness pamphlets are bullshit, because you can't win anyway.”

    “Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario.”

    Jim clenched his jaw, feeling his teeth grit together. “I don't believe in no-win scenarios.”

    “Then, not only did you violate the rules,” Spock turned to look at him then, “you also failed to understand the principle lesson.”

    The _principle lesson_. Jim suppressed his eye roll at that. “Please, enlighten me,” he said, knowing that spite dripped from his tone, and not giving a single damn.

    ”You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk. A Captain cannot cheat death.” Jim saw immediately what Spock was getting at, and the little shit had the audacity to quirk his stupid stern eyebrow at him.

    “I of all people.” It wasn't a query, it was a demand.

    “Your father, Lieutenant George Kirk, assumed command of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?” Of course it was about his dad. Everything was about his dad. His own birthday was about his dad, and now when he cheated on a stupid rigged test it was _about his dad._ Jim didn't dignify Spock with an answer besides a scathing glare that roiled with anger underneath. “Furthermore, you have failed to divine the purpose of the test.”

    Oh, Jim wanted to hear this. “Enlighten me again.” People shifted in their seats, as if they could feel his anger in that one sentence. They probably could.

    “The purpose is to experience fear. Fear in the face of certain death. To accept that fear, and maintain control of oneself and one's crew. This is a quality expected in every Starfleet captain.”

    A test about facing certain death. A test about fear, with no win. That was the last straw. “My father didn't lose!” Jim felt himself explode, felt every eye in the room train itself on him, but he kept going. He couldn't stop now, not when Spock would raise his stupid upturned eyebrow and ask him to _clarify._ So he kept going, “You try to defend your idiotic ‘fear test’ with my dad, with what he did, as if he lost! My father saved lives that day. He saved _my life_ that day. He saved my mom. He saved nearly his entire remaining crew and you call it _no-win_ because he died? If you think I wouldn't cheat, or even die to save lives, if that's not what's befitting of a _Starfleet Captain_ , then maybe I’m not meant to be one! Because let me tell you something, Commander Spock. I would cheat to save lives. I would die, if it meant saving my crew, or another crew, or a planet. And if your stupid test is there to teach cadets that there are scenarios where there's no win, then you're a pretty damn bad instructor. Because any scenario in which I save the life of even one innocent person is a win. _That's_ why I hacked your test, Commander. Thank you.”

    Jim looked at Spock, at his surprised expression that was probably the Vulcan equivalent to open-mouthed gaping. A lot of people in the room sure were doing that. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bones, looking impressed.

    The Admiral started to talk, to say something about the session, when a man walked urgently into the room with an “Excuse me, Sir,” and a PADD.

    The Admiral glanced at the PADD and then looked up and addressed the room. “We've received a distress call from Vulcan. With our primary fleet engaged in the Laurentian system, I hereby order all cadets to report to Hangar One immediately. Dismissed.”

* * *

     As Jim watched the Narada explode, he realized what his legacy was. He was going to be the youngest Captain in Starfleet history. He was going to be the best Captain in Starfleet history, too, though that one might be more of an opinion. But most importantly, he was going not going to be his father. He was not going to have his father looming behind him.

    Jim Kirk was going to be George Kirk’s son, was going to build on his father’s deeds and the imprint he left on Starfleet. He was going to be something more, something special. And as the warp core detonated and they rushed forward into space, he knew his father would be proud.


End file.
